


Rose-colored Boy

by bee_hives



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Theyre in a paramore cover band, i guess?, i love them, its cute, lmao yall'll see, partial magic au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bee_hives/pseuds/bee_hives
Summary: Baz Pitch goes to the closest thing he can get to a Paramore concert in this run-down city. He falls in love with it all, and trouble follows him into the group.





	Rose-colored Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic hope y'all like it chapters will be about every week and a half if I keep on top of it love yall bye
> 
> also html on your phone is a terrible experience this is why u dont post stuff off ur phone
> 
> oh my GOD never try html get a laptop

**BAZ**

I don’t even know why I’m going to this godforsaken concert. 

It's not like I’m a fanatic. It’s just some shitty Paramore cover band—but apparently the lead singer is the best voice that dumbass dropouts like me can afford. And I would give anything to be away from my roomates for a good night or so. 

(They would too, I’m betting. Niall’s an ass, and Dev can’t get off his girlfriend. He’d be glad for some privacy.)

I’m in my shitty car that’s too small to properly hold my too-long legs, and so I’m always cramped. I finally pull into the parking lot of the latest shitty venue—it's the Crow Club, an old building stuck between two restaurants that got renovated by a boy too young to own a club. I look up his name and age off my phone—God, Brekker’s nineteen and running a place you can’t get in unless you’re 20. Talk about young luck.

I get out my car and stride through the rain— _Pitches don’t run_ , I hear my mother say in my head—and finally get into the packed auditorium. Tickets had been five bucks, so there were a bunch of poor kids like me.

Pale kids like me. (Which was telling of something else entirely.)  
After a bit of chatter in the audience that I gladly did not partake in, the lights came up on the stage, and a hush fell over us. It was like at the movies, when the lights went out, except instead of trailers, we got a skinny boy with golden hair running into the middle of the stage and waving excitedly. Like this was the first time he’d been onstage. Like this was how he was every time.   
“Hey everybody!” he laughed, and it was like whatever measly god there was shined upon him. What kind of human being laughed like that? Like he was an angel, and carefree?   
“Uh, I didn’t expect such a turnout! This is the first time we’ve gotten a full house, so...” He laughed again. “Thanks!”   
He dashed offstage, and two girls filtered onstage. One had bright purple hair, pulled back into a ponytail to show off silver piercings on her dark skin. The other was pale and had near-white skin, like some kind of angel. Her airy blue eyes pierced the crowd, looking for something, maybe. Someone.  
But nonetheless, the real angel was the boy who came spinning onstage. He had a huge grin on his face, and the microphone stand in his hand. He gripped it like he was nervous. Was he like this every time?   
_Pathetic_ , I thought, never taking my eyes off him.   
He gave the girl with piercings, positioned behind the beat-up drums, a cue, and a countoff, and the stage exploded into sound.  
I vaguely recognize the song--the chords are familiar and overplayed, but the guitarist girl looks happy to be there, and the acoustic guitar has a pretty, hollow sound that makes your head bop. The girl drums as if she were dancing with the sticks, grinning widely.  
And then he sings.  
 **“Livin’, in a city, of sleepless people,”** he sings, his voice sounding hollow as it did full. I start to smile, despite my best interest.  
 **“Who all know the limits and won’t go too far outside the lines.”** I start humming along, though I’m sure I don’t know the words as well as angel boy up on the stage does. He sings until he gets to the chorus, then grins at us, like he’s doing what he loves. And I don’t doubt it.  
 **“Daydreaming,”** he shouts, his voice full of happiness, and I swear the run-down building starts to change. **“Daydreaming all the time,”** he sings at us, and the lights go out and replace themselves with windows to clear skies.  
That’s impossible, I think offhandedly, but I’m too fixated on his singing to really think. He dances around the stage, holding the microphone to his mouth. **“Daydreaming, daydreaming into the night.”** The sun begins to set through the impossible windows, and i’m stricken.   
The world seems to fade away and something else takes its place. Something else entirely.  
There’s a skylight in this damned underground concert now, and I can see a yellow sky fading to red fading to purple fading to a deep twilight. This is impossible, incredible, exhilarating.   
The singer grins, like he’s not seeing this, like he doesn’t know what kind of mass hallucination he’s causing. He’s been singing this whole time, every line another bird or cloud or color in the sky. **“It’s not enough,”** he laments. **“We’re only half alive.”** _Now that's something I can relate to,_ I think mournfully, feeling more lifeless than ever. Like his singing is leeching whatever life I'm clinging to.   
I listen to him sing, closing my eyes. Lights dance on the inside of my eyelids, like whatever he's doing is determined to wriggle into my consciousness.   
**“And I’m alright,”** he finishes, after what seemed like forever and no time at all. It left us with a sense of contentment, the strings of the guitar echoing through the Crow Club. I sit there, stunned as the band gets ready for the next song. The windows and skylight fade without the angel’s attention, and he leans over the drumset to talk to the purple-haired girl. I’ve seen them before, I know their names, I think to myself numbly, but before I know it, they’re laughing and starting the next song.  
The guitarist girl props up her leg on the stool she’s sitting on and starts to play. The drummer accompanies her, before the focus of everyone’s attention finally opens his beautiful mouth again.   
I don’t really pay attention to them. I’m overwhelmed and mystified by their first performance, and whatever they’ve started on now, it’s not reaching my ears. The lights do not escape me, but I’m thinking of something else. A revelation.  
This singer boy is a Mage.  
And he’s put us all under his spell.


End file.
